{"id":270107,"date":"2025-11-12T14:15:53","date_gmt":"2025-11-12T03:15:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.russh.com\/?p=270107"},"modified":"2025-11-12T19:40:51","modified_gmt":"2025-11-12T08:40:51","slug":"having-a-life-core-fashion-trend","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.russh.com\/having-a-life-core-fashion-trend\/","title":{"rendered":"What is ‘having-a-life-core’? How being busy became a fashionable luxury"},"content":{"rendered":"

Yes, it’s 2025, and \u201chaving a life\u201d has become an aesthetic category. ‘Having-a-life-core’ was coined by TikToker Jayne (@didoriot)<\/a> this week, and captures a recent subtle but seismic shift in fashion. Specifically, we\u2019ve gone from celebrating the aloof, off-duty party girl of the early 2000s, to idolising the person who looks like they\u2019ve just come from a pottery class, or are en route to a hike. In other words, it\u2019s no longer enough to just be \u2014 you have to be seen doing.<\/p>\n

In order to understand how we got here, we need to first look to the past. In the late noughties and early 2000s, coolness was still tied to effortlessness. The It-girls of the era \u2014 think early paparazzi shots of young Kate Moss, and later Paris Hilton \u2014 were enviable precisely because they appeared to do nothing. Their job was to exist. The look was slept-in eyeliner, indie sleaze hair, and a sense of casual disinterest. As a result of their pre-eminence, aloofness became equated with the height of fashion.<\/p>\n

But, as Jayne points out, fast forward to 2020 and COVID meant we actually were<\/em> all forced to sit around doing nothing<\/a>. Two years of endless hours in tracksuit pants, Zoom calls, and homemade banana bread<\/a> made doing nothing feel less like a flex and more like a symptom. Naturally, Jayne explains, “the goalposts have to move.” So where, exactly, did they move to? Towards doing. Effort became aspirational. Suddenly, it’s no longer cool to sit around anymore; it’s cool to be seen living.<\/p>\n

You can trace this recalibration through the rise of gorpcore<\/a>, which sees luxury hiking gear and technical outerwear became wardrobe mainstays, implying that you might, at any moment, go on a hike (even if you\u2019re just getting coffee). But having-a-life-core goes a step further. It\u2019s not just about performance dressing for activities; it\u2019s about embodying a lifestyle so rich with plans, projects, and pursuits that your outfit feels like an afterthought.<\/p>\n

To exemplify her point, Jayne shows us two images. The first is of Mia Goth, arriving on the set of MaXXXine<\/em> in an oversized plaid shirt, baggy trousers, Birkenstocks, sunglasses, and a claw clip. The second is similar: Natalia Dyer walks her dog in an oversized Brandy Melville hoodie, baggy jeans, red headphones, and a cross-body bag.\u00a0 To the untrained eye, both outfits are unremarkable. But to those fluent in having-a-life-core, they’re the picture of busy-chic.<\/p>\n

The trend also reflects a broader economic truth: that living<\/em> \u2014 dining out, travelling, taking classes, even leisure \u2014 has become a form of privilege. As the cost of living rises<\/a>, economic capital \u2014 buying a home, investing in shares \u2014 becomes increasingly out of reach. In its place, cultural capital \u2014 experiences like hiking, reading, or attending live music \u2014 emerges as a key marker of wealth. As one TikTok commenter put it, we’re aspire to look like this \u201cbecause living your life [has become] a luxury.\u201d The clothes follow the sentiment. We dress to look like we can afford to do things \u2014 to fill our days, our feeds, our wardrobes \u2014 with life.<\/p>\n

The irony, of course, is abundant. We\u2019re dressing up as people who have better things to do than think about what they\u2019re wearing. In reality, of course, it\u2019s all a self-referential loop. Scouring Pinterest for outfits that exude nonchalance is, at its core, quite chalant.<\/p>\n

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